


Father to Son

by marner4C



Series: Mitch Marner Whump [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Child Abuse, Father-Son Relationships - Freeform, Implied Child Abuse, Other, Patty and Mitch are NOT in a relationship, Self-Doubt, Sleep Deprivation, Slight Panic Attack, We Die Like Men, i wrote this in a day and i didn’t look over it once, there might be something between marty and mitch who knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 17:18:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18319778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marner4C/pseuds/marner4C
Summary: Times when the team realized Mitch never really had a dad.





	Father to Son

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. I do not know the Marner family or how Paul Marner actually treats Mitch.

“For you I would just realize how good you are, I don’t know if you realize how good you are, how great you are and are going to be.” 

-

Patrick watched as the boys went back and forth throwing the baseball while waiting for outdoor practice to start. The weather in Toronto had finally started to act the way it should while in Spring and coach was taking full advantage of the nice weather. 

“Marns! My god why can’t you catch anything?” Naz called out as Mitch dropped another ball. Mitch grumbled as his cheeks started to color with pink and threw the ball at Naz’s knees, which Patrick assumed was intended. 

“I can catch, just not a baseball,” Mitch said with a bit of a whine in his voice. Naz threw the ball again, and Mitch failed to catch it. The boys threw out rounds of chirps before Mitch took off his glove and came to sit next to Patrick. 

“Not a baseball player, eh?” Patrick asked him, passing a bottle of water to the kid. Mitch shook his head and watched the games of catch continue. Eventually, after the announcement of coach that there is a meeting he has to attend to; the rest of the team came and sat with the two. 

“So, Marns, let’s pick apart why you can’t catch. When’s the last time you did anything with baseball?” Mango asked, rolling a ball toward Mitch’s feet. Mitch glared at him before kicking it back. 

“When I threw the first pitch at the Jays game, then before that was my draft year,” Mitch said simply. Patrick raised an eyebrow as Mitch started nervously picking grass from the ground and taking the blades apart. 

“What about as a kid? Didn’t your dad ever play catch with you? Paul looks like he’s got an arm on him,” Brownie said. Mitch tensed slightly at the mention of his father before shaking his head. 

“I barely even knew baseball was a thing till the end of middle school. Dad wasn’t that keen on anything that wasn’t hockey,” Mitch said, unbothered. Patrick felt something pull at his heart at how unbothered Mitch was by this. 

“Like you never played catch, not once?” Zach asked. Mitch shook his head. The conversation came to a lull, no one knowing what exactly to say. Mitch shrugged before throwing some grass at Willy, who in turn tackled him. The group laughed at the incident, but Patrick was still thinking of the look on Mitch’s face when he realized that he missed out on something everyone else had experienced. 

-

“Fuck!” 

Patrick turned his head toward the obscenity as it echoed through the parking garage. Their game against Buffalo had just ended, which luckily they won. 

“God dammit, why the fuck-“ Patrick walked toward the frustrated voice before finding a cloud of steam coming from Mitch’s car. Patrick chuckled as he walked up to Mitch. 

“Car troubles?” He asked as Mitch noticed his arrival. Mitch nodded before looking back in his hood. 

“It’s steaming but I don’t even know why it’s steaming. Patrick put his phone in his pocket before taking a peak in the hood, lightly shoving Mitch aside.

Patrick remembered the summer of his freshmen year where his dad would keep him outside all day teaching him everything he needed to know about cars, in case he ever got into trouble with his. 

“Mitchy! What’d you break?” Marty asked as he came up behind Patrick. Mitch shrugged before point to Patrick. 

“Patty’s figuring it out, I know jack shit about cars,” Mitch said, peaking over Patricks shoulder to see if he was doing anything. Marty seemed to hesitate before saying his next thought. 

“Didn’t Paul teach you this? This was the first thing my old man taught me when I got my first car,” Marty asked hesitantly. The silence he got in return was answer enough. Patrick stood up to his full height and turned towards the pair. 

Mitch was standing with his head down and seemed to be very interested at the small stones that were on the tar below them. 

“Well, Mitchy, seems you’re gonna need a ride home. You’re leaking coolant from your radiator,” Patrick said. Mitch looked up at him with a confused look on his face. 

“Mitchy, do you even know how to change a tire?” Marty asked as he peaked into Mitch’s hood. 

“Nope,” Marty and Patrick shared a look before Matry tugged Mitch in with an arm around his shoulders. 

“I’ll give you a ride home, pipsqueak, we can take care of your car tomorrow,” Marty said as he got his keys out. Mitch looked at his car again before nodding. 

“Thanks for the help Patty,” Mitch said with a smile as Patty shut his hood. 

Patrick gave him a nod before getting into his car, which was right next to Mitch’s. 

Patrick felt a strange feeling in his chest though, he’d have to focus on that at some point. 

-

Patrick took a large gulp of his coffee before setting down his travel mug and mentally preparing himself to start changing into his gear. 

“Looking a little tired there, eh, Patty?” Jake asked as he motioned to the coffee sitting in his stall. 

“Yea Brody kept me up late cause we had to build our car for the race coming up,” Patrick explained as he worked his hockey pants on. 

“Oh got a pinewood derby coming up? Is it through the school?” Trevor asked, starting a spark in conversation as the locker room reminisced about their own experiences with the pinewood derby. 

“Our car was the best-“

“We got first in all three races-“ 

“We made another kid cry-“ 

“My little brother put stickers on mine and completely ruined it-“ 

“What are you guys even talking about?” 

The question cast silence into the room as everyone look at Mitch, who looked extremely confused. 

“The pinewood derby race?” Auston asked him. Mitch nodded. 

“Its-uh- it’s a father son race where you build a pinewood car from scratch and race them,” Auston explained, looking a bit sheepish. A look of recognition came on his face before a flicker of what Patrick through was sadness came over his face. 

“Chris and Dad did that every year, I wasn’t allowed too since I was supposed to be practicing,” Mitch said, going back to his cheerful stuff as he put his chest pads on. The room lulled into silence once again-something familiar that happened whenever Mitch’s dad was brought up before Willy spoke up. 

“You probably can’t build for shit, so maybe it’s a good thing,” Willy said with a teasing grin on his face. Mitch scoffed and threw a sock at him. 

Patrick watched the two fondly, ignoring the feeling in his chest that had made a reappearance. 

-

Patrick watched in amazement, a bit of jealousy as Johnny brought out his collection of baseball cards he and his dad had collected. It was a pretty impressive collection, far outdoing Patrick and his fathers own attempt at one. While they shared a passion for baseball cards, they just could never find them and were even worse at organizing them. 

“Baseball cards? Johnny c’mon, hockey cards are where it’s at,” Mo said, scoffing at Johnny's collection. 

“Me and my dad have over 200 hockey cards, all in good condition may I add,” Mo gloated. Johnny waved at him with a dismissive look as he continued to flip through his pages of cards. 

“Absolutely not, football cards are the real deal. My dad loves the collection that we have so much it’s locked in a room that my sisters aren’t even allowed to go into,” Auston said, the confidence of an American radiating off him. 

“Football cards are chicken shit, me and my dad are too good for them,” Naz said as he took a sip of the beer he had been nursing for the entire night. Auston rolled his eyes and sat back on the couch, taking a sip of his own beer. 

“Next what, you gonna say you collect basketball cards?” Auston asked. 

“Actually, my dad and I have a killer collection of basketball cards, they’re in mint condition and really rare,” Sparks said from the corner of the room, sipping on a Mikes Hard Lemonade.

A round of chirps rolled in before Mitch placed himself on Marty’s lap and saying his peace. 

“My dad gave me a deck of cards once for my fifth birthday, but he took them back the next day to teach Chris how to play Solitaire,” Mitch said with a smile on his face, thinking it was equally as impressive as everyone else's comments. 

Patrick felt the smile drop off his face and felt anger creeping up under his skin at Mitch’s announcement. Everyone else seemed to be in the same state, Naz’s mouth open in shock. Mitch’s smile slowly dropped as he looked around the room. 

“What?” He asked, eventually looking down at Marty. Marty shook his head and patted Mitch’s hips with his hands. 

“Nothin Mitchy, it’s nothin you have to worry about,” Marty said with a slightly sad smile on his face. 

Patrick understood the feeling. 

-

There was a groan from JT as the pounding on Patricks door became louder and more insistent. Patrick picked his head up from where it was buried in his pillow before looking at the time, which read 4am. 

“Patty, make it stop,” Johnny begged from his bed. Patrick let out a chuckle before rolling out of bed and opening the door. 

MItch was standing there was a smile on his face. 

“Why?” Patrick asked simply, his half asleep brain not ready to form full sentences. 

“I always go to work out at this time, I was actually supposed to start half an hour ago but Auston tried to strangle me with a pillow cause I was being too loud. Can you come with?” Mitch asked. Patrick blinked once before looking back at his clock. 

“You were going to work out at 3:30 in the morning?” Patrick asked, the fog slowly leaving his brain. Mitch nodded. 

“I always wake up at 3:30 to work out, I go till either 5 or 6 before going to make breakfast or practice,” Mitch said. Patrick felt concern build in his chest as he checked the kid once over. 

“You do this everyday?” Patrick asked, finally stepping out into the hallway and closing the door, much to John’s delight. Mitch nodded before starting down the hallway. Patrick brought a hand down his face before following him. 

Once they reached the elevator Patrick used the time to really look at Mitch, his posture was droopy, the bags under his eyes prominent, yet he was still so insistent on working out. 

“Kid, you know you could go back to sleep. No one’s making you work out this early. You look like you need the rest,” Patrick offered, using the fatherly tone he used on Brody whenever he took a loss too hard. Mitch shook his head as they hit the main floor. 

“I’ve done this everyday since I was 7, no use in stopping now,” Mitch said before walking out the elevator doors. Patrick stood in shock, trying to recover from Mitch’s words before rushing out of the elevators. 

As they reached the gym doors, Patrick started to ask what was on his mind. 

“You’ve gone this every day since you were 7?” He asked, concern evident in his voice. Mitch looked at him strangely, picking up on his concern. 

“Yea, Dad would drive me to the gym and give me a workout to do, then depending on how fast or slow I did everything, with it all being correct form and everything, we’d either go right to the rink or we’d go home for breakfast and get ready for school,” Mitch said, as if this was a normal routine for every 7 year old child. 

Patrick felt white hot anger course through him at Mitch’s childhood. Or his lack of one from what his morning routine dictates. 

“How did you even get enough sleep?” Patrick asked, trying to keep himself calm as Mitch started towards a treadmill. 

“I got a solid 5 or 6 every night, I get even less now though. But, gotta stick to the routine. Dad says if I stop doing it my play will be affected, and my play is already- I just can’t stop now,” Mitch said, stumbling over how he describes his play. Patrick went to speak, but found he couldn’t form words at MItch’s statement. 

-

Patrick laughed as he watched Auston’s attempt at drowning Willy commence. They had a day off and were waiting it out in the hotel instead of doing something like golfing, which Patrick suggested but was very quickly turned down. 

“Auston, don’t actually kill him, eh?” Patrick called out, starting to become concerned about the fact that the blonde hadn’t surfaced in a bit. There were boos and jeers about Patricks dad side coming out, but he didn’t mind. 

“Hey Mitchy, why don’t you come in so Matty has someone new to drown?” Freddie called out, drawing everyone’s attention to where Mitch was sitting on the deck with his phone out. His head snapped up and was immediately shaking. 

“I’m good here, in fact anyone want any food? I’m hungry,” Mitch said, jumping out of his chair and walking toward the door. Unfortunately for Mitch, he had to walk past the deep-end in order to get out of the pool room. 

And, being in a room full of hockey players, that’s not a safe place to be. Marty quickly jumped out of the pool, promptly pushing Mitch in. There were cheers from some, cries of concern for his phone,and laughter from everyone. That was quickly cut off when they realised MItch wasn’t coming back up yet. The group waited another few seconds before springing into action. Freddie was underwater in a second, Marty following him. 

After a few agonizing seconds, Freddie came back up with a sputtering Mitch in tow. Patrick started his way over to the area where Mitch was being placed upon to see how he was. Marty was sitting next to him, rubbing his back as Mitch coughed up some water. 

“Mitchy, bud, why didn’t you swim?” Naz asked from the front of the group that had followed Mitchy over to the deck. 

“Don’t know how,” Mitch said, another round of coughing interrupting him. Marty shook his head before hitting his back a few times. 

“Tell us that next time, eh?” Marty said, letting out a sigh. Patrick shook his head, trying to calm himself down. He was scared of this happening with his young children, he didn’t expect it from his twenty year old hockey children. 

“My dad meant to teach me, but he thought it’d be better if I focused more on the water when its frozen,” Mitch said, his smile already coming back. Patrick saw Marty’s jaw twitch and the almost suffocating silence returned. 

Patrick almost laughed at how unbelievable that sounded before looking away. This kid deserved more than that. 

-

Patrick loves his dad, he loves hanging out with him, talking with him, and even just talking about him. Sure, he was a bit upset when he said he couldn’t come on the dad’s trip, but he understood. 

But, the atmosphere in the locker room when Mitch’s dad walked in made him desperate for someone to turn to and start talking. Patrick watched as Mitch’s body posture immediately tensed up, Mitch’s eyes going down to the ground and his smile dropping off of his face. 

Patrick felt a frown pull on his own face but tried to ignore it, focusing more on Mitch. 

When Mitch’s dad came in front of Mitch he seemed to be chastising Mitch for something. Mitch was mumbling a reply when his dad suddenly yanked his jaw up. 

Patricks hands clenched at his sides. 

Mitch and his dad continued talking for a few minutes, Mitch maintaining eye contact the entire time. MItch looked the same as when Coach was yelling at the team after a bad game. Except like this Mitch looked worn down, tired, and sad all at the same time. Patrick decided that at this time he needed to go and grab tape from next to Mitch’s stall. 

When he was a few steps away he finally heard a part of their conversation. 

“You need to play good tonight. Your play these past few weeks have been terrible, keep playing like this and you’re going to get you ass sent down again,” Paul said to Mitch, no ounce of familiarity appearing in his voice. 

Patrick doesn’t get angry enough to punch a man, but damn if he wasn’t close. 

“Hey Mitchy, you got any clear tape?” Patrick asked, not wanting the conversation that was going on previously to continue. Mitch and his dad both looked at him, surprised that he was there. 

Paul seemed to be sizing Patrick up, probably trying to decide if he heard what he was saying to his son or not. Patrick tried to give no indication that he had heard him. 

“Uh, yeah-yeah I’ve got tape. Here Patty,” Mitch said, quickly fumbling for some tape in his stall. Patrick smiled at him, hoping to get one in return. But, instead of the normal blinding Mitch smile, he barely got a quirk of the lips. 

“Thanks,” Patrick said before turning to Paul. Paul had anger in his eyes and a frown on his face, it amazed Patrick that the two were related. Patrick smiled at him anyway before going back to his own stall. 

“I don’t like Paul,” Marty mumbled as Patrick sat back down. Patrick nodded and watched as the two went back to talking. Mitch’s posture becoming more subdued, and shoulders caving inward as Paul spoke. 

“Me neither.”

-

“Fuck Tampa Bay what the fuck,” Naz said angrily as he threw his helmet into his stall. They had just finished their game, Tampa had played them like fools. They lost, 4-0. 

Patrick sighed as he started to strip his gear, he got down to his pants before he noticed that Mitch had only taken off his helmet. He tapped John before motioning for them to switch places. 

Once Patrick was sitting next to Mitch he turned to him. 

“You okay Mitchy?” Patrick asked in a calming voice, trying to tread lightly. Mitch never took losses easy, but after what Patrick heard earlier, he’s got to be taking it even worse. 

Mitch didn’t respond, he was just staring across the room with glassy eyes. 

“Mitchy?” Patrick asked, going to grab his shoulder. But, that’s when he noticed Mitch’s shaking hands. Patrick froze and watched them shake for a few minutes before grabbing onto Mitch’s shoulder. 

Mitch flinched back till he hit the back of his stall. 

“Wha-Patty?” Mitch asked, having snapped out of his trance. 

“You okay kid? You look a bit shook up. Do you need to go see a trainer?” Patrick asked, fully letting his dad instincts take over. Mitch looked at him before his eyes welled up with tears. 

“Whoa whoa Mitchy, calm down. You’re okay kid, you’re okay,” Patrick said, going to grab onto Mitch again. Mitch flinched, moving back into his stall. Patrick paused before backing up. He went to talk before he was interrupted. 

“Marner. This is from your dad, he had to leave, something for work. Told me to give this to you,” Kyle said as he walked over. Mitch took a sharp inhale before grabbing the sheet of paper from his hand. 

“Thank you,” Mitch said softly. Kyle nodded before walking away. 

Patrick watched as MItch read the letter, the shaking came back as he was reading it. 

“Mitchy, what’s that?” Patrick asked softly, trying not to startle him. Mitch didn’t respond, still reading the letter. Patrick continued to watch Mitch, feeling somewhat panicked when he noticed Mitch’s shoulders beginning to shake. 

“Okay,” Patrick said before he stood up, grabbing Mitch’s arm and yanking him up too. Patrick manhandled him down the hall until they reached the trainers room. Luckily, no one was in there and Patrick shoved him in before going in as well and locking the door behind him. 

“Mitch-“ Patrick went to ask what was wrong again before he was interrupted by Mitch’s sobbing. 

“I'm sorry! I know I played like shit and I shouldn’t be getting emotional about it. I’m sorry- I’m sorry please don’t- don’t,” Mitch choked out, dropping down to his knees in front of Patrick. He had his arms up, as if preparing for-. 

“Don’t what Mitchy?” Patrick asked in the softest voice he could, bending down to Mitch’s level. Mitch let out a shaky breath before looking at Patrick, a panic in Mitch’s eyes that he had never seen before. 

“When-when I’d play really bad after not playing good for a long time he’d-uh-he’d,” Mitch stammered out his sentence, unable to finish due to a sob rising up his throat. 

“Mitch. Would your dad hit you?” Patrick asked, hoping that he was assuming the wrong thing. Mitch let out a breath and nodded, wiping his eyes with his arm. 

Patrick felt his throat close up, anger and sadness running through his veins. He took a deep breath, trying to regroup. 

“What was the note he gave you?” Patrick asked. Mitch sniffed before showing it to Patty. 

“Fucked up pass, sloppy skating, turnover, should’ve checked Kucherov. Mitch did he list out?” 

“Every mistake I made, he does it for every game, “ Mitch said, his voice becoming stronger and his breaths becoming more even. Patrick crumbled the note up and threw it across the room. 

“Listen to me Mitch. That list, bullshit, what he said earlier was bullshit, the way he raised- or failed to raised you was bullshit. No parent should ever hit their child, or pick apart every single thing they do. He should be your father, not your sports analyst,” Patrick said to him, making sure to keep eye contact with Mitch the entire time so he fully understood what Patrick was saying. 

Mitch smiled, his eyes welling back up before he launched himself at Patrick. Mitch squeezed Patrick tight, tucking his face into Patrick’s neck. Patrick smiled before squeezing Mitch back just as tight. 

“Thank you,” Mitch whispered. Patrick felt a bit of wetness on his neck, and soon felt some on his cheeks. Patrick chuckled before bringing his hand up to wipe away the stray tears that had escaped. 

When Patrick went to break the hug, Mitch nearly went into Patricks lap. 

“Can we just-stay here a few more minutes?” Mitch asked shyly, looking up at Patrick. Patrick smiled before nodding. 

“Of course kid,” Patrick said, letting Mitch initiate the hug. The longer the two stayed in here, the longer Patrick can not think of how many times Mitch must have been sitting somewhere in his own home, scared, and in pain. All that he was focused on right now was how Mitch was safe in his arms. 

-

The next day, Marty had suspiciously bruised knuckles, and Paul Marner had apparently been checked into a hospital. 

Mitch wasn’t aware of either of those facts though, Patrick had turned off his alarm too let the kid get some much needed sleep. 

When Mitch woke up at a normal time, Patrick was going to teach him how to change a tire.

**Author's Note:**

> comments feed the writer!!
> 
> writing tumblr:@never-ending-winter


End file.
